


21 Bottles of Whiskey

by StrongHermione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 12:44:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrongHermione/pseuds/StrongHermione
Summary: It’s been 20 years since the war and each Christmas since, Severus has received a bottle of fine Scotch.  He suspected Minerva after the first two years, but she denied sending it to him.  What happens when he discovers the recently widowed Hermione Weasley has been behind the gift all these years?





	21 Bottles of Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. I make no money from the writing of this story.
> 
> This story was written back in 2013 for a gift-fest. I thought given the timing it could be my first post here. The character death is a minor character in this story but a major character in canon.

**21 Bottles of Whiskey**

**Christmas 1998**

Severus Snape was surprised at the haul of gifts scattered all over his sitting room. Never had he received this many presents at once. In fact, upon performing a quick count, he believed there were more gifts here than the combined amount he had received in his entire life!

After checking for hexes, curses and poisons, he removed only three parcels from the pile to the fire and then set about opening everything. Most of the gifts were Firewhiskey, elf-made wine and potions ingredients. There were a few gag gifts and, rather disturbingly, several pieces of ladies’ underwear with floo addresses on them—a very obvious invitation for sex. 

He reflected for a moment. During his recovery, several news articles were written about what his memories had revealed. Harry Potter’s disclosure in the heat of the battle had started the interest and his trial had merely confirmed his sole motivation for his actions for all those years. A surprisingly civil conversation between himself, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt had shown him that life could now move on after his summary acquittal. His vow had been fulfilled and his obligations were over. 

Minerva McGonagall had begged him to return to Hogwarts to finish his rehabilitation. He had been living there again for the last month. His days were filled with research to keep his mind exercised, patrolling to help his body recover and brewing in order to keep his sanity. Minerva had already re-engaged him as Potions Master and Head of Slytherin for the next school year. No one was more shocked than Severus to find he was actually looking forward to it. 

Free from the necessity of favouring Slytherin House above all others and having to pretend that certain students were better than others, he was already planning lessons and sourcing materials that would enable him to pass on the knowledge he had accumulated over the years to the new generation of students. He would begin on the first of September in the New Year.

Severus once again perused the haul. Of everything he had received, there was one gift that stood out among the others. A bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label—the finest of the fine. He wondered who had purchased it for him. His first thoughts had been the Malfoys or Potter, but both of them had signed the cards on the gifts they had sent. The bottle had been wrapped with care; he remembered thinking that when initially examining it. The card was simply addressed to Professor Snape and wished him a Happy Christmas. But the calligraphy used to write the message and the parchment it was written on spoke of refinement and thoughtfulness. 

‘ _Ah well, who am I to reason why someone would want to throw their money away on me?_ ’ he thought. He carefully picked the bottle up and walked with it to his liquor cabinet. He placed it right at the back of the other bottles where no one would be able to see it. There were some cold nights coming up, a glass and a book would be the perfect accompaniments to the fine liquor.

.

**Christmas 2000**

“Happy Christmas, Severus,” Minerva McGonagall called gaily as Severus entered the Great Hall.

“And to you, Minerva,” he replied with a small smile. He took his seat at the table and surveyed the smattering of students that had stayed behind this year.

“It always upsets me seeing the students out there at this time of year,” Minerva said sadly, following Severus’ gaze. “They should be with their families.”

“Alas, there are those that prefer to be here or worse, those that must remain for they have no other choice,” Severus observed. He identified four students whose only alternative to staying at Hogwarts was to return to the orphanage set up by the Ministry following the end of the war. The four were all only children, all second years, and had formed something of a family amongst themselves. As Slytherins, he was almost their foster father. He cleared his throat abruptly and turned to address the Headmistress.

“Thank you for your gift, Minerva,” he said cordially. For the third year running a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label was amongst the ever-dwindling pile of gifts he received. As in previous years it was still beautifully wrapped, and anonymously sent. This year, he had decided to confront who he thought was the culprit. An expression of sincere befuddlement looked back at him.

“Gift? I got you no gift, Severus,” Minerva said confusedly. “We agreed that we would only participate in the staff grab bag. I drew you last year, this year I got Hagrid.”

It was Severus’s turn to look puzzled. “Oh, I just assumed…”

Minerva cracked a teasing smile. “Do you perhaps have a secret admirer, Severus?”

“That is highly unlikely; I may have recovered to a hero’s accolades and been reinstated to my position at Hogwarts. I am now a holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class, I receive at least one owl a week from the Minister asking my advice and the Saviour, the Chosen One himself, never wastes an opportunity to sing my praises. Despite all that, I am still the surly, acerbic and generally disagreeable bastard I have always been, and am blessedly free to be so. My nature does not lend itself to secret admirers, likely it is some parent trying to curry favour.”

Minerva cackled at her friend’s soliloquy. “Oh, Severus, you are amusing these days. What was your gift?” she asked.

“A bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label,” Severus announced with a smirk. Predictably, Minerva immediately began fawning over the wizard.

“Severus, how can you think so lowly of yourself? Why, I was just thinking this morning about how much I miss your regular company. We really should spend an evening each week just catching up, do you not agree?” she asked.

Severus smirked at the Headmistress. He was rather amused by the feral gleam that had entered the Scotswoman’s eyes at the thought of partaking in the fine liquor he had received. “And I suppose these proposed get togethers will last just as long as the scotch does?” he inquired, folding his arms across his chest and raising his eyebrows.

“Believe me, Severus, that fine amber brew will last as long as humanly possible,” Minerva said confidently. She suddenly paused in thought. “Wait a moment; you believed I gave it to you?”

“I did, I have received a bottle each Christmas since the end of the war from a person or persons unknown. I thought perhaps it was you,” he said.

“If I had given you three bottles of Blue Label you can be certain I would have made myself known! Surely you would be inclined to share at least one glass with your benefactor. Now where do we stand on you sharing more than one glass with your _employer_?” she asked pointedly.

Severus raised his eyebrow and gasped in mock censure. “Minerva, surely you are aware that there are laws against the harassment of employees?”

“Do not attempt to come between a Scotswoman and a bottle of Scotch, Severus,” Minerva said warningly.

“Very well,” Severus said with a sigh. He still had a quarter of the bottle from last year left over, wanting to savour it for as long as he could. He looked forward to seeing the look on Minerva’s face when she saw he had drunk most of the bottle himself before she got her hands on it. “Perhaps a game of chess this evening with our drinks?” he suggested.

“I look forward to it,” Minerva said.

.

**Christmas 2006**

It was different this year.

Yes, it was still a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label and it was still sent by an anonymous source, but it was…different. The bottle arrived this year in a gift bag, not carefully wrapped in the bright paper it normally was. The card attached had clearly been provided with the bag and instead of the usual fine calligraphy wishing him many happy returns, there was a hurried scrawl simply saying ‘ _Happy Christmas, Professor_ ’. 

Severus examined the scrawl. It was familiar but having had to decipher the writing of every magical teenager in Britain since 1981, it was impossible to identify off the bat just who this particular penmanship belonged to. 

‘ _Ah well, who am I to question it? I still have the bottle_ ,’ he thought.

Nine years now he had been receiving this particular gift. He had been sharing it with Minerva for the last seven and Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout had been brought into the ‘Scotch Club’ the last three years. At first Severus had been against their inclusion—less scotch for him after all—but he agreed with Minerva when she sent him a look that clearly said, ‘ _trust me’_. The trust was very well-placed. Pomona only ever drank one finger of the fine liquor whenever they got together and then switched to tea. She was clearly only attending for the company. Filius was as enthusiastic a partaker as Minerva, but Severus had been shocked when the diminutive professor had shown up at his door for his second get together with a bottle of Blue Label in hand. It turned out he had felt so guilty drinking Severus’ gift that he went out and purchased a bottle to compensate. Now it was a regular thing. Two bottles got them through the school year nicely.

He was still no closer to figuring out who it was that was sending the yearly gift. The number of gifts he received that first year had never been repeated. Thankfully the ladies’ underwear had dropped off after the first three years. Severus had an antipathetic view towards women at the present time. Not that he was totally against them—more so just that he had spent the last two decades shackled to the memory of one while in the indebted servitude of Albus Dumbledore and pretending to be in the indebted servitude of the most evil wizard who had ever lived. He was enjoying his freedom for now. On the odd occasion he felt _the urge_ , his hand and a well-constructed fantasy usually sufficed, otherwise it was easy to head into Glasgow or Edinburgh and find a willing Muggle woman for a one-night stand.

Potter had continued to send him a gift each year with a card attached indicating how his family was growing. He had expected the addition of Ginevra’s name; after all he had attended the wedding. He shuddered when he saw the addition of ‘ _Baby James_ ’; when he had been informed of the child’s middle name he had threatened to resign. This year’s package had contained a very nice bottle of port along with some homemade fruit mince pies and mini-treacle tarts. The accompanying card had been signed, ‘ _From Harry, Ginny, James and Soon-to-be-Baby Potter_ ’. He wondered what name this child would be saddled with.

The Malfoys were also out. Never ones for being anonymous when their actions could bring them even the tiniest scrap of benefit, he received a thoughtful gift from them every year; usually some form of outerwear or something to do with his current research. Lucius would sometimes throw in an item of humourous nature—a coffee mug proclaiming him, ‘ _World’s Greatest Teacher_ ’ or a t-shirt stating, _‘I Know the Best Way to Use My Wand’_. Apart from his colleagues, he knew of no one else who held him in such high esteem. 

Since it had now been nine years, it ruled out any parents who were trying to curry favour. There were only a handful of families that had multiple children attending the school over the years in question and he did not think any of them were his anonymous gift-givers—they just were not the type. 

A knock on his door shook him from his reverie. He flicked his wand to open it, knowing exactly who would be on the other side. Sure enough, within moments Filius and Pomona were sitting comfortably on his sofa waiting for their first drink of the evening. Neither of them knew where Minerva was but they were all sure she would be along presently. 

It was nearly a half hour later that the Headmistress finally showed up. Severus did not stand on ceremony with this group and so Minerva was left to herself to pour her drink. She took a seat in the armchair and apologised for her tardiness. “The Weasleys were receiving visitors for the first time today and I was detained there,” she explained.

“Did something happen to Molly or Arthur?” Severus asked.

“Not Molly and Arthur, Hermione and Ronald,” Minerva corrected him.

“They have turned into the Malfoys have they? ‘ _Receiving’_ guests?” Severus asked with a slight sneer.

Minerva gave him a look of censure. “Hermione had her baby last week, Severus, I told you that.”

“Considering I did not even know she was _enceinte_ , I believe you did not, in fact, tell me that,” he drawled.

“Are you sure? I was positive I said something,” Minerva said hesitantly.

“Nevertheless, you have explained your tardiness and the happy occasion that caused it, let us move on from joyous tidings,” Severus said sarcastically. Pomona would not allow the change of subject though.

“Was everything alright with the birth?” she asked.

“Yes it was, thankfully. Hermione had such a terrible time with the pregnancy itself, she deserved an easy labour. She has been on bed rest for the last two months; Molly told me she needed round-the-clock tending as she could barely move under her own strength, the baby was pushing on her coccyx and spine. Ronald was marvellous though—took care of all their Christmas preparations himself as well as taking care of her,” Minerva said with a proud smile.

“Humph, glad to see he appreciates what he has,” Severus grumbled. He had been surprised when he heard of the romantic relationship between the couple. From his limited interactions with the pair of them it had been obvious, to him anyway, of how ill-suited they were. He supposed Weasley must have finally done some growing up in that year of the war. As he sat in silence listening to the two witches and Filius (who may well be named an honourary witch after this evening) gossip about their former students, he felt something niggling at the corner of his mind. 

_It was different this year._

.

**December 15, 2014**

Severus stood on the doorstep of the unassuming cottage just outside of Ottery-St-Catchpole in Devon. It was with an amused smile that he realised the cottage was on the complete opposite end of the village to the Burrow. ‘ _Close but not_ too _close_.’ He had examined the abode upon arrival—it was wholly unremarkable; just a simple white-washed, two storey building. The garden was an eclectic mix of Muggle and Magical plants but they all looked to be well-tended. A shed could be seen in the garden with three broomsticks propped up inside a containment charm. Severus felt a small pang of uncharacteristic sadness when he saw the two child-sized brooms either side of the adult one. But that was the reason why he was here.

The sound of the door latch being released returned his focus to the red door. He stood straight as the door opened and Hermione Weasley was revealed.

“Professor Snape!” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Weasley. I do hope I am not disturbing you,” he said politely.

“Not at all, not at all, good afternoon,” she greeted him. She sounded slightly flustered and Severus could see the tell-tale signs of a woman who had just been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy and her voice betrayed the slightest tremble. “Please, come in,” she opened the door and stood back to allow him room to cross the threshold. He removed his cloak and handed it to her before entering the sitting room she indicated. 

“Sorry for the mess,” she apologised. “I was just getting a head start on wrapping some Christmas gifts.” She hastily moved some shopping bags out of sight and collected the multitudes of wrapping paper, cards and tape, depositing them into a hamper. Severus was momentarily struck by a Slytherin Green metallic looking piece of wrapping with candy canes emblazoned all over it. He refocused his attention on Hermione when she asked, “May I bring you a cup of tea?”

Severus shook his head. “No, thank you, I will not be here long. I spoke with Minerva yesterday and she informed me…” he stopped talking when tears started shining in the witch’s eyes. She extracted a tissue from the pocket of her robe and dabbed it against her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She daintily blew her nose. “You would think I had been cried out but—” she paused for a moment, visibly gathering her composure. “Sorry, I-I just… I haven’t had a good morning. Ron took the children out earlier and being on my own… What can I do for you, Professor?”

Severus was both scared and impressed; scared that she would breakdown completely and impressed that she was able to be so strong in the face of her obvious grief. It was clear she did not wish to wallow and so he followed her example. “It is in fact, what I can do for you, Mrs Weasley,” he said cryptically. At her questioning expression he continued, “As I said, Minerva informed me yesterday of Mr Weasley’s diagnosis and your plan to take time as a family while he undergoes his treatment.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes,” she confirmed.

“I have had some experience with this, a colleague of mine back in the eighties was diagnosed with cancer and I witnessed her treatment as well as brewing the potions she needed.” Hermione nodded again. “I would like to offer my services in brewing these potions for your husband.”

A light of hope broke over the face of the witch, even as her mouth began to form the words of refusal. “That is wonderfully kind of you, Professor, but we couldn’t ask you—”

“You are not asking me,” he interrupted with a raised hand, “I am offering. There is a difference. Minerva tells me you intend to travel during this period and will obtain the required potions through the local apothecary wherever you are.” Hermione again nodded in confirmation. “Potions for the treatment of cancer are much more efficacious if they are all brewed by the same person. Given the situation I am sure you will be keeping to major cities or easily accessible places and so it will be simple for me to brew them and send them to wherever you are currently staying. Please, I would like to help in any way I can. I have not forgotten it was the two of you that stabilised me well enough to ensure my survival.”

Hermione suddenly looked horrified. “Professor, you are not in our debt! We have never thought you should be beholden to us in any way, shape or form for that, it was the least we could do…”

“It was _not_ the least you could do,” he countered. “At that point you still thought me a murderer and Death Eater. You would have had every right to leave me for dead as Potter did, but you didn’t. I know your husband’s motivation for attempting to prolong my life and I believe at the time you shared it.” He had heard them while they frantically poured potions over his wound and down his throat. Ronald had been very vocal in ordering him not to die so he could face justice for everything he had done. Hermione had not said anything beyond casting spells but he could see the agreement in her eyes. Once everything had been revealed and his innocence confirmed, he had thanked the pair for their furious intent and accepted their sheepish apologies.

“This is not repayment, it is simply offering assistance in a situation where I know it would be of benefit,” he finished.

Hermione bowed her head for a moment. When she looked back up, tears were once again shining in her eyes. She gratefully accepted his offer and he stood to leave.

“Your owl will find me at Hogwarts. Send me a note of where you are or will be every full moon so I know where to send the potions,” he instructed as he fastened his cloak around his neck. “When does your holiday begin?”

“We leave on the second of January,” she replied.

“I will send you the first batch before you depart,” he said. He was prevented from leaving with a gentle hand on his forearm.

“Thank you, Professor, you don’t know what this means. I am sure your potions will help Ron a great deal,” Hermione said sincerely.

“You are welcome, Mrs Weasley,” he said with a nod. She removed her hand and he left.

Hermione’s thanks were added to that evening by Ron Weasley. The redhead appeared at Hogwarts just after the evening meal and once again reiterated that Severus should not feel in their debt at all, but Ron was extremely grateful to have someone he knew brewing the potions that would hopefully enable him to recover. Severus explained at length what Ron could expect from the treatment, it would not be an easy road. Ron knew this and also told his former professor that he was hoping for the best, while preparing for the worst. It was one of the reasons they were heading out into the world—so they could experience it as a family with what little time might be left to them. He also confided that the time away from his already overbearing mother and sister would be helpful to his recovery too. Severus shared a small laugh with him over this comment. Molly Weasley and Ginny Potter would definitely be hovering during a crisis such as this and he could imagine Hermione would quickly be at the end of her tether with them.

Thankfully, he was spared any other grateful thanks from the Weasley clan. Before Ron departed Hogwarts, Severus asked him to keep his involvement in the treatment quiet. Only the members of his ‘Scotch Club’ were aware of his good deed, all of them naturally curious as to what had brought their former student to the school that evening. 

Ten days later, when Severus was attending to the Christmas gifts he had received, he picked up the by-now-tell-tale bottle. It was different again, just as it had been that year it had arrived in a gift bag. This year though, the care and thought that had been placed into the wrapping and card were second to none. The card was of the finest parchment he had ever seen. Not even the invitations to Draco Malfoy’s wedding had been on parchment of this quality and he had thought nothing could beat that. The calligraphy used to write the message was almost of a professional nature with extra flourishes and embellishments. The bottle itself was wrapped with extra care—not a wrinkle or stray corner to be found and the tape was applied with perfect precision. There was something familiar about it though… then it hit him.

This was the wrapping paper that had caught his attention when Hermione Weasley placed it in the hamper.

.

**Christmas Eve, 2017**

Severus stood in the graveyard in Ottery-St-Catchpole along with hundreds of other mourners. He watched Hermione as she tried to stay strong for the sake of her children. She had a hand resting on each of their shoulders and they in turn had gripped her hands tightly, tears streaming down both of their faces. He could see that Hermione was drawing her strength from Harry Potter who was standing beside her with his arm tightly around her own shoulders. The devastation on his face as he looked at the coffin containing his best friend was heart-wrenching to witness.

The rest of the Weasley clan was clustered around them, their closeness on show for all to see. Hermione and Ron had been away from England, travelling the world for two and a half years with their children, only returning in time for their eldest child, Rose, to start at Hogwarts this past September.

Severus, of course, had Rose in his Potions class. He was reminded quite a bit of her mother, minus the hand-raising and incessant need to prove herself. She was extremely intelligent and surprisingly intuitive. Her placement in Ravenclaw was well-suited and Filius never lost an opportunity to brag to Minerva regarding this particular coup. This past four months had been hard for the young witch, knowing her father was likely to pass away at any time. She had gone home most weekends and even the occasional night during the week—Severus had consented to escort her on several occasions—in order to spend as much time with her dying father as possible.

Kingsley Shacklebolt finished delivering the eulogy and invited everyone back to the Burrow for a reception on behalf of the Weasleys. Severus took his turn in throwing a handful of dirt into the grave as Minerva and Pomona threw blue roses in there as well. The magical colour had been Ron’s favourite of the bloom and Neville Longbottom had provided thousands of stems that he had been cultivating for the last few months in the greenhouses at Hogwarts. Pomona was now semi-retired, teaching only the NEWT students while Longbottom took on the younger years.

Back at the Burrow, Severus searched for Hermione, finally finding her in one of the bedrooms with Potter and her son, Hugo. They were talking gently to the boy who was refusing to go downstairs to the reception. He knocked softly on the door.

“My sincere apologies for intruding, Mrs Weasley, but I did not want to leave without extending my deepest sympathies to you and your children,” he said.

“Professor, you’re leaving already?” she asked.

“Alas, I must. We left the handful of students staying behind at Hogwarts this year under the supervision of the Head Girl who kindly came in today as a favour so we could all attend the service. I must go and relieve her,” he explained.

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “Let me see you out.” She rose after whispering something into Hugo’s ear. He nodded and curled into his uncle’s side. Potter nodded to his former professor before turning his full attention to his young nephew.

“I did not mean to take you away from your son,” Severus said as they descended the stairs. 

“It’s alright, I can use the distraction for a few minutes,” she said.

“I am sorry my potions were not successful,” Severus apologised. He was not ready for the ferocious scowl he was met with as Hermione whirled furiously toward him.

“Don’t you _dare_ apologise for that!” she cried passionately. “It was because of your potions that we had as much time with Ron as we did! The healers told us that with the advancement of his cancer he should have been dead a year ago! Because of you, we were able to travel to all the places Ron wanted to see. We were able to return with enough time for him to see Rose off on her first day of school and for him to set all of his affairs in order. Hell, your potions enabled him to hang on for one more week until after Rose’s birthday, so do not apologise for enabling a dying man to do so with dignity and poise and, more importantly, with no regrets. If it weren’t for you, he would have died while we were in the wilds of Russia and alone with the children.”

At the end of her impassioned speech, Hermione threw herself into his chest, allowing the grief she had been holding back all day to burst forth. He stood there for a while, unsure of what to do with the tiny witch crying stormily into his robes and beating her fists softly against his chest. Tentatively, he brought his arms up and placed them gently on her shoulders, rocking her slightly in an effort to calm her. Finally her tears subsided and she gratefully took the handkerchief he offered.

“I’ve gone through three of these today already,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Dad, Arthur and Harry have all given up theirs to me.” She wiped her eyes and dabbed slightly at her nose. She made a move as though to hand it back to him but stopped herself. “I will return this to you after I have cleaned it,” she promised. 

Severus shook his head. “Keep it, I have plenty more.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “And thank you for coming. Again, we would not have had this last year with him if it wasn’t for you and for that alone, I will be forever grateful to you. I hope you have a Happy Christmas, Professor.”

“I wish you the same, Mrs Weasley, as happy as you can under the circumstances,” he said. He cursed convention that required him to say those words. Christmas was going to be anything but happy for her and her children from now on. It would forevermore be a reminder of what they had lost.

Hermione nodded. “Thank you, but I doubt it. After tomorrow we are going to go away again for the rest of the holidays with Harry and Ginny and their children. The break will do us good, I think. I’m sorry, I have delayed your departure quite a bit and I must get back to Hugo. Have a safe journey.”

“You too,” he replied. He gave her arm a final, gentle squeeze before departing. 

The next morning Severus awoke to a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed. Dispensing quickly with the usual token gifts from some of his senior students or their parents, along with the annual gifts from the Malfoys and Potters and his present from the staff grab-bag he turned his attention to the bottle, there once again.

For the third time in nineteen years, it was different. At the bottom of the usual calligraphy wishing him a Happy Christmas was the same scrawl his note had been written in twelve years before. It simply said: _Thank you, Professor Snape, for everything_.

Thanks were all he had ever wanted.

.

**Christmas 2018**

There was no bottle this year.

It had surprised the hell out of him and he could admit he was sorely disappointed.

He confirmed that the usual gathering of the ‘Scotch Club’ would still take place that evening, but there was no new bottle to break in. Throughout the day he reflected on the last year.

Following last Christmas, Hermione Weasley had taken her children and disappeared with the Potters for the remainder of the break. The media had gone crazy over this decision, somehow believing she should have been grieving in a place where she was accessible to them and where they could report on her every expression and word. 

The first ‘Scotch Club’ meeting on Christmas night had been rather subdued. They had all attended the funerals of former students over the years, especially following the war, but the loss of Ron Weasley had hit everyone hard. They had reminisced about some of the escapades of ‘The Golden Trio’ during their time at the school. Severus was equal parts incensed and intrigued to discover that Hermione Weasley was responsible for setting his robes on fire in her first year, mistakenly believing that he was cursing Potter’s broom during his first Quidditch match. Likewise when he learned it was she who had stolen from his stores in their second year in order for them to brew a clandestine Polyjuice potion. He was not at all surprised to learn it had worked—she was always a little too clever for his liking.

During subsequent get togethers, Minerva would keep them up-to-date regarding the Weasleys, specifically Hermione. Rose seemed to be coping well with the loss, putting great efforts into her schoolwork and having an almost singular purpose—to beat Scorpius Malfoy in every test. Neville Longbottom told them it had been an instruction, albeit somewhat tongue-in-cheek, from her father and she was doing her best to honour it, much to the chagrin of her housemate who, in turn, was determined to beat her at least once. The rivalry harked back to that between their parents but without any of the maliciousness and spite that existed between the older generation—Rose and Scoripus’ rivalry was good-natured and healthy.

By all accounts Hugo Weasley was coping quite well also. Severus supposed it was because they had had plenty of time to accept the fact that their father was going to die and they had all made their peace with it. 

It was in February that Minerva had proposed a staffing change. For years, the Study of Ancient Runes professor, Bathsheba Babbling, had been hinting that retirement was imminent. One cold night, Minerva told her colleagues that Bathsheba had resigned that day and would finish up at the end of the school year. The four of them threw about some names of noted academics in that field but they were unsure that any of them would be suited to the fairly cloistered life they lived at Hogwarts.

“What about Hermione Weasley?” Severus suggested into the silence.

Minerva smiled cheekily. “Why, Severus, do I detect some admiration in your tone?” she asked teasingly.

“Be quiet, woman,” he responded. “You must admit she would be qualified. She received Outstandings in all of her NEWTs and she was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for quite some time. After proving herself capable of controlling the rabble that makes up the DMLE, controlling a classroom full of teenagers would be a walk in the park for her—not to mention the fact that Ancient Runes is an elective. The students studying it generally want to. You said yourself she has no desire to return to the Ministry now that she is a single parent.”

“That brings up an interesting point though; her youngest still isn’t due to start here for another two years. Would we be alright with a youngster in residence?” Filius pointed out.

“I don’t see a problem with it,” Pomona put in. “He is a Weasley—on the odd occasion she needs a babysitter, there are an abundance to choose from. Otherwise, this castle is full of youngsters in residence; it is a school. There is the added advantage for Hermione that Rose is here already. It appears that they are quite close and at this time in their lives I am sure they would welcome the opportunity to live under the same roof. Hermione would also be established as a professor in the event Rose chooses to take Ancient Runes as a subject. I believe she is of a demeanour where that would not matter anyway.”

They continued to discuss the possible appointment on and off for several months, culminating in Minerva officially offering Hermione the post. Hermione accepted after long discussions with her children and the extended family. She was quite excited at the opportunity to teach one of her favourite subjects and, in typical Hermione fashion, she threw herself into the preparations. 

September the first saw her sitting at the Head Table, dressed conservatively in amethyst coloured robes and serenely accepting the wild applause that erupted upon the announcement of her appointment. There was an air of excitement surrounding her but it was tempered by a sadness that was now as much a part of her as her compassion and intelligence. 

She and Hugo settled in quickly to the routines at Hogwarts. On the nights Hermione was rostered to patrol, Hugo would always accompany her on her first round, then he would be sent to bed and she would patrol with a magical baby monitor in her hand in case he needed her. On the days she was scheduled for Hogsmeade duty, Harry Potter or George Weasley would invariably meet up with her and take charge of Hugo for the day. Other than that, Hugo could often be found politely trailing after one of the other professors, watching them as they went about their tasks and offering assistance where he could. By Halloween he was eagerly awaiting the next time Severus was going to prepare Sopophorous beans—he loved it when the juices oozed out.

Between the start of the school year and Christmas, Severus found himself becoming quite enamoured of the attractive widow. He had overheard Hermione talking with the school nurse at dinner one evening and she had confided in the woman that her late husband had encouraged her to pursue happiness as soon as an opportunity presented itself. She thought she could afford to be picky though, and wait for the right man. 

Severus embarked upon a campaign to prove himself to be that man.

It started with him seeking her out for her opinions on his research. He found some of her insights quite intriguing and he was planning on publishing an article crediting her with her contributions in the New Year. He sat with her at Quidditch matches, usually with Hugo between them, the young boy regaling his mother with Quidditch anecdotes and explaining the nuances of the game to her. He would also pepper Severus with questions and ask his opinion on the various plays being executed. On the nights they were both scheduled for patrols, they would invariably wind up making the late round together and three or four times Severus had been invited into her quarters at the end of the evening for a cup of tea and to talk.

He thought it had been going well.

‘ _Perhaps it was Ronald behind the bottle every year_ ,’ he thought. That did not make sense though as the wrapping and calligraphy were definitely products of Hermione. Maybe she just did not have time this year to go out and purchase it, or perhaps money was now tight due to having to support two children on a single income. ‘ _Yes, that must be it_.’ The bottle from last year still was a quarter full, so it would do for the annual Christmas Night get together of the ‘Scotch Club’ and he would go out later in the week to purchase the new bottle himself. After twenty years he thought it fair.

The knock on the door came a little earlier than usual but he flicked his wand and opened it for his colleagues. When a timid, “Hello?” echoed through to his sitting room he put down the glasses he was preparing and quickly went to the door. Hermione was standing there.

“I thought you were at the Burrow,” he said.

“I was, but I heard from Minerva regarding your little club and wanted to join in,” she said timidly.

Severus smiled tightly. “It was my intention to ask you to join us, however this year…” he trailed off, wondering just how he could bring up the fact that she had not in fact sent the customary bottle. He was saved from having to point it out when she produced a gift from behind her back.

“I thought it was time I presented it in person,” she said with a nervous smile.

“It was you,” he said, taking the bottle from her.

“Yes, we wanted to show our appreciation in some way and it just… became a thing. I thought you might have guessed it was us after Ron added his note last year.”

“In fact, I first suspected it around the time Rose was born,” Severus responded. Hermione’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “It came in a gift bag that year with a matching card,” he explained.

“ _Ronald_ ,” Hermione muttered with an exasperated shake of her head and a fond smile. _Everyone_ had gotten their gift from them in a bag that year. ‘ _Hermione, these things are brilliant! I can’t believe you waste all that time each year in wrapping_.’ He would not be swayed from that opinion, even as she explained that part of the gift was the thought and effort placed in the wrapping of the present.

“It was further confirmed when I offered to make the potions for his treatment. The wrapping paper you used had been in full view on your coffee table,” Severus said.

Hermione laughed at his comment. “I was more concerned with you perhaps having seen inside one of the shopping bags that day—your bottle was right on the top,” she said.

He shook his head and smiled. “So you wish to join our ‘Scotch Club’?” he asked.

“If I am welcome,” she replied.

A teasing glint became apparent in Severus’ eyes. “When Filius joined our club he began supplying us with an extra bottle to make up for what he was consuming, so unless you are able to do the same…” Severus said with a mock-stern tone.

Hermione smiled impishly and withdrew a second bottle from inside her robes. “I am more partial to The Famous Grouse myself,” she said, handing the bottle to him. She reached up to place a small kiss on his cheek as she passed him and into the sitting room. He followed her in and watched for a moment as she perused his bookshelves. He put both bottles on the cabinet and walked up behind her, placing both of his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him. 

Giving her every chance to pull away, he slowly brought his lips to hers, meeting them in a chaste kiss. “I have wanted to do that for a while,” he said softly.

“I have wanted you to do that for a while,” she said, equally as soft.

“It is not too soon for you?” he asked.

Hermione shook her head. “It has been a year now; that is the socially acceptable amount of time to wait. I want you to know I love my husband, I will always love him, but I am finding myself more and more attracted to you every day.” She reached up with one of her hands to grasp his. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together and I just… I’d like to see where this goes.”

“It can go as far as you would like,” Severus said. He bent down to kiss her again, this time with more passion and desire than before. She eagerly melted into his embrace and met his passion in an equal amount. Knowing their other colleagues would soon come across them, Severus reluctantly pulled away.

“Perhaps we can start with dinner tomorrow evening?” he suggested.

“I’d like that,” she replied. “Harry and Ginny are keeping the children until New Year’s Eve; perhaps you would like to join me at their party?”

“I’d like that,” he repeated her words. “Will the children have a problem with us if we do decide to take this further?”

Hermione shook her head. “They are the reason I’m here. They both like you and encouraged me to give you the bottle this year, rather than send it.”

“I’m glad you did.” Their lips met for one last time before a gaily called, “ _Hellooo_ ,” echoed through to them. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes before parting, the promise of things to come evident to both of them.

Severus was no longer disappointed that the bottle had not arrived that morning. The personal delivery was much sweeter.

.


End file.
